


Watching stars without you

by Arkaham



Series: The one where is a Dragon on the Enterprise. [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Mention of Death, Past Issues, Quenya, Smauglock, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:22:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkaham/pseuds/Arkaham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The live in Baker street seems normal, but secrets are revealed to exist when the handiwork of Miss Adler made them surface.<br/>Smaug and Gandalf were thrown into the London and forced to live accordantly, the year is 2010 and some secrets are unfold and John Watson seen to part of another even larger secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just bear with me, they arrive to London is another story to be told later. Like the other tales before this, this one serve as large introduction. This is taking long, but it worth.  
> Smaug is now in human form, has taken the identity of Sherlock Holmes and runs almost equally of the tv show.

**July 22th, Thursday.**

The warm of the gold in his back made his mind focus, Smaug opened his eyes and that unnamed feeling was bubbling his chest again, he can’t allow lose his mind again, he needed his mind clear to escape to this trickster on his lap, this trickster that had cold hands and wet lips and a clever quick mind.  Smaug felt his breath became slow and shallow, those fingers were on his chest making circles and his skin shiver. He barely remembered that he turned himself into something that looked alike at that trickster. He now was small, very small, and pink without his armour and spears, he was very haired and oh dear, those waves again, they were roaming over his body, they were numbing his mind, the fingers felt colder and the lips over his mouth tasted , tasted so sweet.

Smaug needed to focus, he needed to pull himself free from this beautiful trickster, he needed to do before the bond set in, he needed to escape from this unnamed, cunning trickster, he needed but, he couldn’t. All of this tiny body was vibrating with every move this creature do on his lap, swallowing a part of Smaug that until today it was reserved only for female dragons.

“Let it go” he whispered in his ears, the hot breaths on his skin forced him to close his eyes and feel the coins on his back, the cold hands on his chest and oh dear, there wasn’t coins on his back, only that warm humidity around him, that cold on his heart grabbing his mind, there was only one smell that come from his tongue. His claws, no they were now hands, tensed, touching warm skin very close to his lap. “Yes, let it go” He whispered again.

For all the stars in the sky, he needed... what he needed? Smaug had everything a dragon could wish, he had large hoard, he had a massive lair, and he doesn’t need a mate. No he don’t need a mate, he had one. Smaug had a mate and it was dancing on his lap, his mate.

“I love you Sherlock” 

He once had a mate.

Sherlock opened his eyes; he felt his body shiver, his skin too hot and a trouble under the sheets. He sat down and remained himself that this was the closest to home he was. This was his flat on Baker Street on this hateful London.  He fetched his mobile and watched the hour and the day, it was July 22th and it was eleven in the morning. Thank whatever the gods were for small mercies. If John was still in the flat he will attack him with questions about his dreams or worse, what make the Great Sherlock Holmes had an early morning glory.

But precautions were never unwelcomed.

He pulled the covers and the sheets around himself and fumbled down the bed, he walked proudly to the bathroom, he walked as silently man covered in sheets and coverts manage. Lucky him, there wasn’t any sign of John, yet.

Hot water on his skin, shampoo on his black unruly curls and a hand to alleviate his early and recurrent problem. Thinking on that, Sherlock discovered that, his wet dream started in early April, no so long after the pool incident, they begun the very same day John informed him that he was taking a holyday with his, girlfriend. Who was? Sandy? Sammy? Sasha? Whatever.  Sherlock began dreaming on his old days with his mate from that day. At first the dreams only involved sharing kissing, then they turned erotic and with the John’s return the dreams become very explicit.

Sherlock needed to find better ways to stay awake longer than usual, he needed to keep something covering his body for quick escapes, and in the possible, distract his mind.

And today, it was going to be one of those long days, his hand had trouble helping his painful erection, the burning hot water felt cold and his mind was drifting back to John’s suddenly return. He stopped all motion.

_Logic Sherlock_ , he told himself. _If John is the problem, then is the solution, that hand, it’s his hand_.

Sherlock tried again to help himself. It wasn’t working. Sherlock sighed. _Then what?_. The solution was terrible simple. John had the same shade of eyes as his mate, his voice was almost the same but their smells were so different, like the smell of coffee and the smell of the lily. Oh dear, there it was.

John was not his mate, but thinking that he was alike was triggering what in that moment he needed and also his wet dreams.

An hour late Sherlock contemplate a white sheet, he was replaying in his mind an old lullaby, he was trying how to put that sweet song in the paper and at the same time hide it with another piece, when John arrive finally.

He hung on his coat and throw himself in his armchair, from his mouth erupted a long string of curses, marching like bullets in a machine gun.  A quick glance told him that, it was a patient that had bother him to no end, then the subway.

“You missed, _bugger_ ” Sherlock commented in a moment John take to breathe.

“How could.... never mind” John said, paused and walked to the kitchen, few seconds later he returned. “Why are a pile of sheets in the kitchen Sherlock? No wait, I don’t want to know” He returned to the kitchen.

Sherlock put his project on hiatus, he begun to play a song he once heard, it begun with a slow sombre pair of notes that quickly changed in a waltz like tune, it was short and able to change the note once the melody was recycled.  John stopped whatever he was doing just for come and watched him play the violin. Sherlock put a smile as the song drifted slowly in a quicker rhythm; suddenly it changed to something violent but still waltz like, John giggled at the sudden recognition of the tune.

“That’s the waltz of the monsters” John returned to the kitchen. “From the movie we saw a couple weeks ago, what was it’s name... oh yes, Amelie” The teapot whistled.

As the song ended, John returned with a pair of cups, Sherlock for a moment closed his eyes, he kept his violin under his chin, the smell of tea comforted him. Sherlock for one instant, felt like in home, if he opened his eyes he would see a table filled with wonders, if looked at once side he would see an opened door leading to the most beautiful garden filled with all kind of flowers. But it was just a fleeting feeling.

Sherlock opened his eyes, scalding himself to lose in that way. He placed his violin on its place and joined John to drink tea.

“Should I give you more French films?” John asked.

“You looked troubled John” Sherlock answered. He tasted the tea, it was good as it smelled.

“Bloody traffic” John cursed almost instantaneous, Sherlock braced himself to hear a long string of curses of John about people and the steering wheel, a long insufferable retelling of patient in the clinic. Sherlock smiled, sipped his tea and quick adjusted his vision to a blank point, selling his best face of attention to John when he could wander in his memories for something better to do.

And that was when it hit him.

“Blast!” Sherlock stood up, he ran to the window and literally glued his face to the crystal. John curse was the quickest reaction to the hot water on his lap. “Bloody hell Sherlock” He called, Sherlock scanned the street but its view was narrow, too much for his taste. He flight to the door barely catching his coat, he jumped three steps on the stairs each time, dashed to the door and exited the flat.

The scent was still fresh and he could follow easily. “Sherlock?” John was quick behind him struggling with his coat.

Quick. Sherlock dashed north, John yelled something. He can’t wait or he will lose the only hint he had in so many years. The smell of tobacco, of dust and rain, of books and laughter, the unforgettable essence of someone he once believed his friend, one he once trusted his most precious treasure.

The trail vanished in the middle of the street. There wasn’t a hint of which direction the smell went. He hated more the city. This massive city. Sherlock had lost again the trial.

“Bloody idiot!” John yanked as the sound of angry horns sounded around him. Sherlock tried to see if there were cabs or busses nearby, but as always there were hundreds of them.

“What are you thinking? You could get yourself killed” John was yelling at him. He focused on his voice and his anger pouring on the words, he breathed once, twice and began the walk back to the flat.

“Sherlock!” John called again.

“I just thought I saw someone” Sherlock admitted, saw was more sociable acceptable than smelled.

“You know, there are easy ways to track people these days than just follow them into the traffic” John added.

Yea, like use the keywords: wizard, old, white and cunning would give him the direction of that old man. And use one of his names it will give him like a million on hits.

Not even his powerful elder brother was able to locate the old wizard. The man has adapted as well he did.

“Sherlock what’s wrong? Can I help?” John soft voice remained him that he wasn’t walking alone anymore.

“John” What he can explain? At this point? Still nothing. But he stopped and watched John at the eyes. “If you were spying an old friend where did you go to hide?”

As usual John face was a contraction of questions and answers, thoughts and blanks. It was always a curious thing of this doctor.

“Is this some kind of rhetorical question? Or there is someone, namely Moriarty’s henchmen spying on us?” John always asked the right questions.

“Neither John, this is something different” Sherlock assured him.

“Why I can’t find that believable?” John asked crossing his arms.

There it was again, the human nature. Their natural untrusting toward him, their doubt before the absolute true. Sherlock sighted in frustration and resumed his walk to their flat.

“Bloody hell Sherlock!” John called after him “For once Sherlock, stop being so mysterious and tell me, I can help!”  But Sherlock has made his mind long ago.

If he ever wanted to find Gandalf in this London, he needed to do alone. He don’t needed another human being telling him that his truth it was just a distortion version of some children’s book. He went to his violin and resumed his project ignoring John calls for the rest of the day.

 

**August 13 th, Friday.**

John woke up at the sound of the violin. He sighed, then moved trying to find a good position to return to the land of dreams, but the tune in the violin was so mesmerising that he sat down and enjoyed the piece. The tune was soft almost playful but in some notes it had sadness. John soon noted how the song slowly turned into a grieving lullaby and suddenly ended. It was as it Sherlock heart didn’t want to heard that tune and ripped apart the instrument from his hand. John looked the time. It was two in the morning, and it was Friday and he had a shift in the surgery in less than six hours. He tried to go back to dreamland again.

As soon his head touched the pillow, the violin sang again. This time its voice was tender. The tune was slow but the same sad note was there. John braced himself for a long night of a sorrowful violin. But the song drifted tenderly into love notes.  It was like a poem that asked the time and the love to give the answers, like a song of undying hope. And then there were tears. The melody was beautiful in the end. Sherlock paused the violin one moment, like he was singing as was recovering his breath after a long note.  The piece continued slowly, John imagined some of the words being said in some particular repetitive notes. It made him smile, it made him dream of a land of blue grass and orange skies.

The second time John woke up, the violin was still playing. The same piece playing, somewhat different but kind of more beautiful, lovely and tenderly.  It was like the soft touch of a lover on the first kiss. It was nearly six am. John with a smile in his face ready himself for the day. By far this piece was his favourite.

He walked to kitchen first; Sherlock was engrossed with his violin in the middle of the room. His eyes were closed and his curls were falling on his face, he noted the trails of tears on his face.  The violin gave three strange long notes before end its song, Sherlock remained in the place he was, if John didn’t knew Sherlock he would said that he had been caught stealing eyes from a corpse.

“Good morning John” Sherlock said, he looked indecisive like he tried to return playing the violin or ran to his room.

“That was a beautiful piece” John acted before Sherlock could say anything more, he went to the bathroom, and waited. He wanted to hear that piece again, but the violin didn’t sing anymore, he instead heard Sherlock walk to his room and close the door.

That had been awkward for Sherlock.

He left the flat with the tune in his head, even as sad it was, it was beautiful and at some point in the tube he hummed it.  A redhead child on the arms of his blond father liked the tune and asked John if he can sang it for him and John told him the true. “My flatmate played his violin, I don’t know if it had lyrics”. The child was disappointed but he hummed the melody after a while.

Once he arrived at the clinic, the melody was still on his smiling lips, the nurses and others doctor greeted him with a smile too. At this point John thought the melody was somewhat of magical spell that made people happy. More than once he hummed meanwhile he examined a patient and the patient left smiling.

“And they said today all kind of bad luck happens, Friday 13th and all” She giggled and continued “What are you doing tomorrow?” Sarah asked to him during their break.

“Saturday? Don’t know, probably watch some reruns or pray for a good murder” He joked, his hands finished mixing the milk the sugar and the tea on the cup, he hummed the melody.

“That’s a beautiful song” Sarah said. “What is called?”

“I don’t know, Sherlock was playing it this morning” He admitted, her surprise was evident in her face.

“He also composed songs?  wow”

“Sometimes” John tried to recall other melodies he heard Sherlock compose. It came in blank.

“It must be lovely to wake up to his violin” Sarah sounded a little angry, perhaps jealousy. But next instant that was gone.

“No” John declared. “Most of the times he plays at two in the morning and they are furious songs or very, very long pieces, it’s very rare for him to play lovely pieces”

“At 2 in the morning?” Sarah surprise was wilder than before.

“And doesn’t end until I woke up or Mrs Hudson or Lestrade calls” John felt the need to see at the sky for the only window they had in that particular room. He tried to hum the melody but he discovered that he didn’t remember at all.

The melody was gone from his head.

“No wonder you come like a walking dead some days” Sarah joked.

“That’s funny” John said, Sarah was about to comment on that but John continued. “I can’t remember the melody”

Sarah eyebrows knotted, she tried to recall the song, but she also discovered that the melody wasn’t in his memories too.

“It’s strange” Sarah said. “I heard you a moment ago, hum the song and I can’t remember how it goes”

“Like a spell” john whispered. “That’s why he....”

They changed the topic of conversation, later returned to their patients. John kept thinking of that song and how strange was.

Baker Street was blessed with silence, John found Sherlock looking at his mobile with distress, with the unfortunate of an unwanted discovery. In his other hand was his violin, he was on his knees and he sighed, very deeply.

In all the time he had never seen Sherlock like this, so devastate, his eyes shining with unshed tears, “Too long” He said, giving up something. He took a deep breath and stood up. “I was an idiot” He said smiling, John knew that face, that you should had done something in the past and now you’re regretting with all your heart never had done it. “I am, still I am” he corrected himself, he put his mobile on the table and went to place his violin on his place.

“No, you’re brilliant” John intervened, looking at Sherlock like this make his chest hurt. “You’re bloody brilliant”

“Thank you John, but that doesn’t help me with concurrent my problem” Sherlock sat in his armchair, and his finger pointed to his mobile “I finished the piece of this morning John, but I just realise that I can’t send it”

John sat in his armchair and looked at Sherlock eyes; he didn’t understand the problem at all. “You can use YouTube” John offered lamely.

“There are not computers or internet where I want to send it” Sherlock proceed to explain. “I can only mail it, but I never bothered to learn _their_ music writing system”  John mouth opened  and closed.

“Can’t send a portable player with packages delivery?” John asked, Sherlock looked at him like he had said the most idiotic thing ever, then proceed to laugh. He shocked his head.

“Neither” was it last word of the day. Sherlock went to his bedroom and stayed there the rest of the day, only joining John for dinner.

John thought what place on earth had no internet and no package delivery.  He just comes to couple of places, the middle of the desert, the middle of the ocean and the middle of the poles. The only places where humans haven’t build a city yet. So where?

The mobile left on the table picked John’s curiosity. He knew that sometimes Sherlock recorded his violin playing using the little device, and he had wanted to hear the melody once again.  He fought himself, telling himself that heard the melody without Sherlock’s permission was a direct violation of his trust.  But once again, Sherlock had never told something against the first time John took the mobile and used it without Sherlock permission.

John went for the mobile, oddly unlocked as always, and searched for the melody. It was easy to find, the last records always showed first. The melody had a name.

“Songbird” John whispered. That was a beautiful name for a song that he remembered being tender and beautiful but forgot its melody.

The violin sang tenderly as john hit the play button, the piece was slow and delicate, the melancholy tune was still luring but the playful notes were dancing at their own rhythm, the melody recycled and it went a little faster. John found himself giggling at the melody. He returned at his armchair enjoying the song. He closed his eyes.

He imagined himself again in the field of blue grass and orange sky, he almost felt himself swimming in the ocean and at some point, he yearned for apple pie.

The song lasted good ten minutes, John loved every note played, loved the tempo and the tune. It was perfect.

“I will fetch dinner, want Chinese or Indian?” John asked but no answer came. John settled for Indian food.

When he exited the flat he discovered that this time, the song didn’t vanished of his mind, he hummed all the way to the Indian restaurant, meanwhile he waited.

“That’s a brilliant melody” A stranger said. The man had grey bright eyes, a long white beard tied beautiful in braid with some daisies embroider. He was also wearing a white long-sleeve shirt and white trousers, shining white shoes and white gloves. “May I ask its name?”

“I think is called, Songbird” John answered the old man.

“Oh” He whispered. “I may said that it’s not your the song. Am I wrong?”

“Not at all, it’s my flatmate” John said, the man smiled then.

“He’s still grieving” the man whispered. “Thank you” He said and walked out the place. John looked at him, but as soon his food was ready, he forgot about the stranger. He hummed the song on his way back home, he served the dinner.

The only thing he shared with Sherlock was the dessert, the slice of apple pie. Well enjoyed these calm days, he played again the melody and was tempted to copy to his mobile. It had some spell that relaxed and made him happy at the same time.

That night, John’s dreams were pleasant. The melody played in his mind here and there, changing his dreams, from oceans to skies, from fields to forest, and even the deep space filled with stars and massive planets.

 

 

**September 11 th, Saturday.**

Smaug was looking at the stars, it had been so long since he had watched the stars, sleep at the open sky, his now bluish green eyes wandered to where the elvish star was shining. It was indeed beautiful, not exactly as the old poems and songs said it was, but it filled his chest with an unnamed feeling in his chest.  He will ask Bilbo in the morrow, but for now he was content to just watch the stars and feel that sensation bubble in his chest.  Bilbo stirred in his sleep, his hands tightened his hold over him. Smaug looked at him.

Bilbo was cuddling around him, his arms embracing him and his legs tangled with his. But his face, Bilbo had that odd smile, Smaug was growing fond on that smile. It made that bubbling feeling burst and wash his new tiny body. He buried his nose on Bilbo’s golden curls and took a deep breath.

In this field at the skirts of the lonely mountain, where no tree can be seen in miles but the grass and the flowers grow happy Smaug held tighter the hobbit against his body.  The creatures of the night sang in the distance, afraid of the mighty dragon but at the same time touched to see it small and cuddling.

The dragon returned his gaze to the stars. That old song about two lovers sailing every night on the sky returned to his mind, he hummed it happily. Then it hit him. What he was feeling right now, what was bubbling in his chest it was the same that old song sung in its words.

He felt like an idiot for not seeing before.

Smaug wondered how long will last his life now that it was tied to a tiny creature that he now loves.

He woke up with that question on his mind, his eyes glanced at the ceiling. No seeing stars or clouds.

“Did you have a nice dream Sherlock?” John greeted him, John was seated on a chair, he was looking at the telly, Sherlock sat and looked at the telly briefly. They were showing images of people around shrines with flowers and photographs, then the skyline of New York was showed. It was the ninth anniversary of something. Sherlock stood up and stirred.

“Yes, I had. Thank you” answered Sherlock, he looked at his fingers. The ghostly feeling on his wings was still there; every time he woke up he felt it more and more. John seemed to note it.

“If you sleep in your bed, like any normal human being do, you won’t feel cramp again” John stated.

Oh how he wanted to stir his wings and fly all the way to Moscow and back, or maybe the desert and bury himself in the hot sands. And the only thing he could do for now was stretch his arms as long he could and flap them several times; that always alleviated the cramped feeling.

He went to his bedroom to fetch clean cloths, boiling hot water will ease the lonely feeling he get after dreaming, and also will annoy John to no end.

Once he exited his room, bathed and with clean cloths he looked at John, he was still watching the news.  But also was ready for anything. That was good.

“Fancy a walk?” Sherlock asked and in the moment John turned off the telly, jumped out from his chair and went for his coat.

“Sure”

They exited the flat and walked south. The Saturday morning was filled with tourist wandering on the city, shoppers walking and chitchatting, taking breakfast on the pavement. Sherlock had in mind to go the Hyde park, grab some fish and fries on the way and just enjoy the giggles John will burst when he deduce the people on the park.

But when they were on the cross with Crawford street, Sherlock picked the smell of books and rain, dust and laughs, and the most strangest of tobacco. He stopped and took a deep breath; yes the smell was still lingering there, no so far.

“Sherlock? What’s the matter?” John asked.

Sherlock turned following the scent, literally. He walked only a block, in the next corner was a restaurant or a pub, and the smell was coming from that place. “Breakfast?” He asked at John and John raised a single brown.

“I just had one” John answered.

“Fancy a second?” Sherlock smiled at the sudden return memory of second breakfasts made him happy. But for John, it sounded weirdest.

“All right” He conceded not so convinced.

At the very moment Sherlock and John entered The Beehive, Sherlock was struck for the strong smell, he immediate land his eyes on the silhouette seated near the chimney. He almost jumped of happiness.

“It’s too fancy for my taste” John whispered, Sherlock ignored him and walked to the man. “Sherlock, there is plenty room.... oh whatever” John protested behind him.

“ _Aiya meldomelin nolmo”_ Sherlock whispered to the man before seat himself at the other chair, at the lack of answer Sherlock glared at the man. John stood in front of Sherlock divided in scold Sherlock or apologise with the man first.

“I know that that cloths aren't yours” Sherlock said aggressive.

“What ya mean mate?” The man, was quite young, twenty five or twenty six, his eyes where black and his hair blonde, dyed no so long. The cloths however fit him very well. The pure white hat, the white robe, the skin bag and Sherlock noted the white wooded staff at his feet. “That sound stunning, can ya teach me?”

“Where is the man that you stole this cloths” Sherlock pointed at the staff with his fingers, John cleared his throat.   
  
 “Hey, I didn’t stole nothin’, some guy sell me the whole set for few quid’s” the man said suddenly scared. Sherlock glared once at him and the young man blanched and gulped.

“Tell me who and where and I will not call the yarders” Sherlock threatened the boy, he nodded and stood up. John was about to say something, but Sherlock was fast on his knees recovering the staff.

“Some guy sells me these near the entrance of Northwick Park station” The young man take of the hat and robe with eased practice. “I didn’t knew these were stole”

Sherlock felt the magic numb his fingers at the moment he picked up the staff, but he quickly told the staff that he will return it to his master; the staff understood the dragon and allowed him to carry him without further numbing.

“Wow, I can’t carry that without this” The young showed him a harness.

“Obviously” Sherlock said. Then Sherlock took the bundle of cloths. “The staff is not a toy, not this one”

“Am I getting back my quid?” The man asked.

“I afraid that’s your lose mate” John said suddenly. “Be careful next time and buy only at stores”

Sherlock smiled, then they exited The Beehive. The sweet smell of Gandalf filled his nostrils, it made him cheese. “Sherlock what is these?” John asked pointing the wooden staff.

“This, my dear friend, is the most powerful weapon on earth” Sherlock said, they started their walk back to Baker street, if he wanted to find Gandalf he needed to leave his cloths behind.

“That’s a joke? John giggled “Right?” John glared at him for a few seconds, Sherlock granted him a serious look and the smile on John vanished. “Not a joke, fine. But how a wooden staff can be the most powerful weapon of earth? ”

“Hold it and tell me” Sherlock offered, John debuted but didn't try to grasp the staff.

“I can’t” John admitted stunned.  “It’s weird, I want but there is something, like a feeling that I must not grab this staff”

“You must see the face of that boy when I took the staff” Sherlock said, their flat was crossing the street.

“He was surprised”

“His arm was numbed, he was flexing his finger. The makeshift of harness told me that the kid had been suffering of numbing since he took the staff, it is a self protection mechanism of the staff” Sherlock explained. Once inside the flat, Sherlock leave the bundle by his armchair.

“You talk about the staff as it has life” John was about to take off his coat but Sherlock moved to climb down the stairs, John groaned behind him but followed.

“It’s sentient” Sherlock awaited in the pavement, as soon he spotted a cab he called it. John was bemused at his side.

“Sherlock, are you aware of what you has just told me? Things are not sentient” John debated as he climbed inside the cab.

“Northwick Park” Sherlock said to the cabbie, then returned his attention to John. “Oh John but you just had feel it. This staff doesn't like you”

John was about to answered but waited, another question was filling his mouth. “But you seem to carry it without problems”

Sherlock looked at his hands and the staff between them, the magic running through the staff was restless, the hold of the dragon was the reason it was so fidgety.

“Not at all John. It will knock me out at the first chance” Sherlock admitted, he once again tried to calm the magic in the staff but only served to made the magic wary. “and it dislikes how I know it”

John looked at him suspicious. “Sometimes I don’t know if you speak the true or you’re just pulling a fake tale to do something else, like the times you lie to people to obtain information”

Sherlock sighed in frustration. He disliked when people questioned everything and rejected the truth. He felt the staff doing the equivalent of a laugh, but then it sent comfort, telling him that his master had suffered the same in the past.

“Thanks” He whispered to the staff.

“Pardon? You said thanks to the staff?” John said unbelieving his own ears.

“Yes I did” Sherlock resolved to watch the city pass through the windows. “It had been so long since I laid eyes on the staff, and I almost forget how empathic is” Sherlock closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the staff. His own magic was shaken awake and it gave shivers to his human skin. It felt nice and ticklish. He couldn’t stop the giggles.

The staff had felt Sherlock yearning for the sky and his home and tried to make him forget for few seconds. The staff also filled with comfort and began to wonder about the human friend Sherlock had. Sherlock show him everything he knew about John.

“Are you giggling Sherlock? What was the joke?” John asked concerned.

“The staff just tickled me” Sherlock confessed opening his eyes, they were arriving finally to _Northwick Park. “It was invigorating to had my own magic tickled like that”_

 “Wait what? Your magic tickled? Sherlock, nobody has magic, that is a scientific fact” John called once they were off the cab and john paid the trip.

“That’s true John, humans did not have magic” Sherlock conceded but said no more, he had passed for this very same conversations before and the end was very unpleasant for Sherlock. He walked to the park instead. The staff hummed in agreement with him, its own master had the same conversation and the very same result.

Whoever they tell what they really are, this person would laugh and call them a bunch of idiots or worse, it will demand an example of magic and once seen, they will say it was only mirrors and a well trained hand.

“Sherlock wait” John called behind him “Wait!” he was trying to keep the closeness between them as Sherlock walked in the park looking at the trees searching for a squirrel or a bird that can help him. Finally John pulled him into a stop by grabbing his wrist and looked at his eyes. “Whenever you said humans you said in a way you despise them, us. You said you had magic and yet you don’t bother to contradict me about the lack of magic on people. Is that a hint that you’re not human? Sherlock, no matter how many insults people throw at him, for me and the people you help you’ll always be the kindest human being”

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the same time he stopped the ground with the staff.  “John you’re right, I’m not human but I look human and certainly I am not kind”

“You’re an idiot” John said. Sherlock glanced sideways, he felt embarrassed and at the same time comfort to be that close of John and John didn’t seem to notice that little fact. Even the staff was purring in his hand.

“Want me to prove you about real magic?” Sherlock asked returning his eyes to John’s

“Magic isn’t real, but you can try” John conceded. The staff suddenly disapproved the choice and went cold in his hand, Sherlock assured the magical item that he wasn’t to use it, he was about to use his own magic for that little demonstration.

“All right” John gave some steps back without looking away Sherlock or blinking. “Can someone show me where is Mithrandir, the white?” Sherlock asked and John raised a single frown.

“That’s it?” John asked confused. “Just a question? Not a big trick with all that mambo jambo effects?”

“Real magic doesn’t need movies visual effects John” Sherlock answered, soon at John feet was a big grey rat shivering. “And certainly not Disney’s” Sherlock kneel and offered his hand to the big rat. “For armour and spears I swear to you that no harm will fall to you” Sherlock pleaded to the rat. John looked at his feet and jumped scared of the big animal. The rat seemed wary of the oath but cried.

“Fine” Sherlock said suddenly pained. “I swear on my hoard and my mate that I won’t eat you” John was about to say something but the big rat cried relieved, then proceed to ran.

“Don’t lose the rat John” Sherlock said jumping afterwards the rat, he heard the army doctor yell behind him. They crossed the streets and submerged in the suburban landscape, they ran after the rat some blocks, turned some corners until they come to an alley. The rat cried some more and they disappeared under a nearly fence.

John was at his side grasping air, he looked happy and stunned, then he busted into giggles. “I can believe, we ran after a rat” he commented still laughing. “But what was funnier, you swearing to that rat that you won’t eat it”

“Rats are very distrustful of my kind since the begging of the songs” Sherlock said offhanded; he closed his eyes sniffing the air. The hint of tobacco was very dim but enough to follow “This way”

“That’s new” John said walking at his side “The begging of the songs. Where did you hear that?”

“In my youth” Sherlock said, his eyes were scanning every brick of the alleyway.  “From a queen” Sherlock didn’t expand on the topic, John was temped to ask again but Sherlock was fast “Not the queen known in politics”

“Oh” John sounded dazed. “So what was the thing you asked? A Me drank till?”

“It was a who John” Sherlock slowed his steps “The owner of the robe and the master this staff, Mithrandir the white”

“A friends of you?” John asked, he was walking looking at the same places Sherlock did but quickly rescanned wall opposite. He was getting bore of that alleyway. Empty and lonely alleyway, there wasn’t even a leftover of a trash can or a box, it was empty.

“Just acquaintances”  The smell of tobacco was strong in that place, but there was nothing to see, the staff also seemed baffled. Sherlock stood in that place and took a deep breath, rain and books were there, emanating slowly. He wondered if the rat tricked him.

But then John made the grate discovery.

“Here are shadows that aren’t supposed to exist” John said looking at the floor in front of him, he was moving his hand and its shadow was playing with another one in the bricks.

“Old idiot” Sherlock said warmly, he knew that the wizard was using some magic to disguise himself or was wearing that idiotic cape that had no smell and allowed the wearer to blend in the surroundings. Sherlock motions John to step back, then grabbed the staff with tow hands and proceed to hit where the object projecting shadows must be.

A deep ground sounded, then fast a man discovered itself throwing the fabric at his said. Sherlock smiled, Gandalf the white was there looking at him mildly furious and mildly shocked. Sherlock then noted that the old wizard was naked and the only thing that covered his bare body was the elvish cape.

“Woa, Sherlock that was rude!” John chastised him the next moment, but being a British gentleman as he was, John went and pulled Sherlock’s coat and helped the wizard to put on. “I am so sorry sir, he is rude most of the time”

“Thank you boy” The man said admiring John. “You will be rude if someone take you and then leave you in a strange city” Gandalf smiled. “Not bad feelings here?”

“I got you hat too” Sherlock said showing the staff to the wizard, Gandalf smiled.

“Oh wonderful, wonderful, keep that thing safe can you? I lost it twice this year; the thieves are worse this days” Gandalf looked at the coat with a big smirk “Who is this?” Gandalf suddenly asked “He looks exactly as my dear friend Mr B....” Gandalf bite his tongue, John looked at them both bemused.

“John meet Gandalf the white, Gandalf this is John Watson, doctor” Sherlock said pushing some of his own weigh on the staff, the staff gave Sherlock a big wave of disappointment and sorrow, but did not try to escape.

“nice to meet you John Watson, doctor” Gandalf shake John hands with enthusiasm. “Can we go to eat? I’m so hungry and I hope you still perform those odd customs of you family”

“it’s very late for second breakfast and a little early for elevensies, I think we can manage” Sherlock answered looking at his watch.

“Splendid, you’re still eating your seven meals at day” But the look on Sherlock made him shiver. “I keep forgetting, I am so sorry friend” Gandalf put his hands on the coat and retrieved Sherlock’s mobile.

John busted laughing “that’s a good one” John said as his laughs calm down “We’re lucky he ate a single meal in a day”

 “Can we go to the flat?” Sherlock asked pained.

“Sure thing, I once had one of these Sherlock but I gave up on having them, they seem to attract the thieves and robbers” Gandalf didn’t move at all, John signed frustrated.

“The cabs didn’t pass around here magically” John said beginning to walk to the main avenue. Sherlock saw him walking and wait for them at the end of the alleyway.

“He really is looks him” Gandalf added. “He almost fooled me the first time I saw him”

“I know” Sherlock conceded, they began to walk to where John was waiting. “as far I gathered he is human, born and raised in the Watson family and nothing  special”

“But that’s not the reason you set your mind into finding me” Gandalf asked hesitating, John looked at them, he nodded and began they short walk to the avenue.

“No. I find you this time because I had lucky this time; I stumble with someone that had your belongings. I want to say something to you and ask for that key.” Sherlock stopped at the side of John, he had hailed a cab.

“I’m sorry they stole even the key, they thought it was for a bank account” Gandalf entered the cab with such grace that John looked at the man bemused.

“Sherlock can locate almost anything” John said proudly once the cab start the trip back to Baker Street. “He is very good at that”

“It’s that so?” Gandalf giggled “I see that you put at works your talents, my friend would be so proud of you”

“Who is this friend you speak so fond of?” John asked.

“Our mutual friend or I shall say, was our mutual friend” Gandalf said saddened, Sherlock just grabbed the staff with both hands resisting the sting in his chest, even the staff feel it and bathed him with comfort and hope. He closed his eyes allowing the staff washed him with the magic.

“All you all right?” John noted his distress friend, Sherlock masked his pain and the mixing magic with a grin.

“Yes, John. The staff is just wondering why I haven’t returned to it’s master” Gandalf knew he had lied and John looked at him sceptical. “I haven’t told it yet”

“You should do it before it knocks you out” Gandalf helped out, Sherlock thanked for the change of topic. “You know, she is pretty sentimental”

“Wait?, you too believe that this staff is sentient”  John asked scandalized.

“I don’t believe Mr Watson, she is and she is quite powerful too, and I’m relieved that Sherlock had found her , my star, and I’m more relieved if he guard it for me, for he is a dragon on a hoard” Gandalf giggled making his statement less serious.

Sherlock glared at him but Gandalf continued to laughs. “I really need cloths and a good hot meal”

“We can get you news” John offered.

“I really appreciate that” Gandalf said and Sherlock felt the good mood on the staff risen, she  was happy even when she knew that she could be with her master anytime soon.

Sherlock wondered what to do with the staff in the meanwhile, she suggested to be part of his hoard, to accompany him, to help him in the meanwhile Gandalf didn’t need her. She also suggested that she can help him with his work. Sherlock pondered that suggestion, but at some point found it agreeable, sometimes he needed help, but not with his work, he needed help with his wandering mind and his aching heart.  She asked Gandalf if that was all right and the wizard giggled aloud. She asked then for a nice cleaning.

“All right, but once we’re in the flat” Sherlock whispered to her and Gandalf giggled.

“Sherlock that’s not good, you must not talk to that think” John scalded.

“Not good?” Sherlock looked at John, Gandalf laughed even more.

“Mr Watson, I like you” He said.

They arrived at Baker Street still laughing.

Sherlock stood in front to their flat, John wandered what on earth had made him stop, the old man Gandalf just waited for them to walk, the man looked like those perverted man that flashed anyone on the alleys. But his hands safety in the upper pockets and his white hair falling made him look also as a forgotten grandpa.

“What is it Sherlock?” John asked.

“It’s Mycroft” Sherlock answered sour, he held the staff tight with his tww hands, he looked torn between enter the flat and knock his brother with the staff and run through London until the elder Holmes vacate the flat.

“Aren’t you to introduce me to that man?” Gandalf asked trilled.

“Fine” Sherlock finally allowed John to open the door, he was reluctant to enter the flat but in the end, he entered first and climbed the stairs.

“He hates the man but it’s like he won’t ride of him neither” John explained miserably, Gandalf hummed.

“He won’t unless it is strictly necessary” Gandalf said “but pray tell me, what is the relationship of Sherlock with that Mycroft?” Gandalf asked climbing slowly the stairs.

“They’re brothers, I thought you knew that” Gandalf giggled at his answer.

“Now I see” He continued giggling. “You have to pardon this old man, the last time I saw him it was about twenty seven years ago and we part ways in not good terms” Gandalf explained little and once they were in the flat, the old man went directly to the bundle of his white cloths.

John saw Mycroft seated on Sherlock’s armchair, he was disturbed by the presence of the staff on his hands.

“Hello Mycroft” John greeted the elder Holmes.

“Hi John, I see that my brother has picked another stray cat” Mycroft said with disdain.

“You can say that” Gandalf take off the coat and hung it in the perch, Mycroft immediately glared at Sherlock who was standing at the entrance of the kitchen with the staff as if belonged just there. “You must pardon me, but I was robbed three days ago and Sherlock kindly retrieved my things”

“and doing charity Brother mine, I never knew that side of yours” Mycroft returned his glare to the old man. “But what concerns me it’s his astounding appearance to one of your imaginary friends you used to keep telling. How much is my brother paying sir?” Mycroft asked standing up.

Sherlock growled but his eyes never left Mycroft. Gandalf revised his robe with care onece he was wearing it.

“Dear sir, I assure you, I am not imaginary and much less his friend” Gandalf said stilling his body. “I lose that right long ago when I did a great harm in believing otherwise. Now he is helping me, only because he is honouring the customs of his family and I risking my life just for coming to his, _place_.” Gandalf made a struggled for the last word. Mycroft looked uninterested in that speech.

“I fail to see how my brother will be a danger to your life, just tell me how much he owns you, I will pay it” Gandalf giggled at took seat on the sofa, he make distance in a good way.

 “Mr Holmes I know you’re trying to protect him from himself, but in my experience, that only serve to earn his wrath.  If you want to protect him, you must to trust him. There was only one creature that manage to keep him save and also to restrain him, and it wasn’t me” John noted how uncomfortable Sherlock was getting. The old man knew too.

“Please dear Watson, I would be so happy to have that meal you promised” Gandalf stood up, “Please dear sir, join us, he will be fine”

“Sherlock please stop this charade, this will only hurt you more. Don’t mix John in that nonsense about dragons and wizards, please Sher...” Mycroft turned to look at Sherlock and that was the final drop, Sherlock stood rigid hearing his brother words, then said “quiet” stomping the floor with the staff and Mycroft’s mouth muted at mid word.

“Two days” Sherlock said retiring to his room, the door slammed and John would see Sherlock the next morning.

“Dear me” Gandalf giggled. “I can tell it’s not your first time with his spell”

“Mycroft are you all right?” John asked wondering what happened just right there. Mycroft put his fingers on his forehead and sighed. He pulled out his mobile and texted John.

_Please convince my brother to revert the damage. I have a very important meeting tomorrow morning. MH._

John read aloud, Gandalf giggled again, the man was fond of laughing. “I will happy to help you, nut I’m afraid I can’t right now and I don’t want, you see, I already manage to earn his disdain. I promised to a dear friend that I will keep him safe but I failed him and I had brought him so much misfortune that I felt honoured for his help right now. I don’t want to try my luck any further.”

Mycroft looked at the man, his grey eyes scanned merciless the man. John received another text.

“Mycroft, I believe them, your silence is a big fact now. If you want to talk I suggest you to apologise with him, you know him better than I do” John said. Mycroft sent another message.

“Thank you my dear boy” Gandalf put his hand on his shoulder, John felt the gratitude radiates the hand. “I can see why he tolerates you.” John felt suddenly proud of himself.

“I wont!” Sherlock shouted from his room.

“Downstairs, the Speedy serves a wonderful breakfast, they can solve this” John ventured to said looking at Mycroft typing furiously in his mobile, Gandalf nodded. “And if you want, we can arrange for you to stay with us until we can find you something better”

“I like your thinking Mr Watson.”John and Gandalf leave the flat in search for breakfast.

From the inside of the Speedy’s, they saw Mycroft marching very angry to his black car. They laughed. The afternoon was spend shopping cloths and making a deal with Mrs Hudson for the flat 221c. Gandalf slept on John’s bed, John slept in Sherlock’s and Sherlock spend the night watching the stars from the window, for sure talking with that staff.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm sorry....  
> I intended for something dramatic and I have this.... I'm sorry I'm sorry  
> I cried in the edition... but still could had mistakes.  
> Sometimes I wonder if this colection could be better in the form of one single fic....  
> Thanks for reading.

**September 14 th, Tuesday.**

“Jesus! What are you doing” John just entered the room, his senses freaked out at the sight of Sherlock in the floor and Miss Adler walking away happy.

“He’ll sleep for few hours” She said to him nonchalantly.  “Make sure he doesn’t choke on his own vomit, it makes for a very unattractive corpse” She was on the window of the bathroom and she was smiling.

“What have you give him?” John asked the woman “Sherlock” He asked.

“He’ll be fine” She assured him, her legs out of the window. “I’ve used it on loads of my friends” She informed him

“Sherlock, can you hear me?” and Sherlock answered whispering “Yes my love”, his movements were wobbly and uncoordinated, he tried to sit but he failed in every try, his eyes were fixed at some point in the ceiling.

John suddenly felt his skin craw at the lovely intonation. It was so soft and sensual; it was full of adoration and devotion. Sherlock’s eyes were dilated and John knew in that very moment what kind of drug Irene gave him.  “You gave him Mandy?” John asked.

“Are you a good doctor, don’t you?” Irene asked almost giggling. “I don’t use illegal” She said and vanished. John gasped at the empty window and then at the detective in the floor that looked more like a fresh caught fish on the floor.

“No way it’s ketamine” John whispered walking at the window, Irene was nowhere to be seen. He sighted. “Help then.” John said returning at the side of Sherlock.

“yes, my love”  That whisper was not good at all.

John pulled out his mobile and dialed the only person he thought be more helpful at the moment. Between rings Sherlock moaned, he stopped trying to sit and in the floor was enjoying himself, his hands held fists and sometimes his back arched. “What did that woman gave to you?”

“Lestarde” Finally the inspector Detective answered the mobile.

“Hi, this is John” He walked around Sherlock.

“Hey John” Greg was cheerful today.  Good luck.

“I have a little problem with Sherlock” John said quickly, then gave him the address and few pointers. Greg agreed without further questions.

John decided to help the poor girl that was still unconscious, he carried her and deposited in the bed, Sherlock suddenly stopped all sounds and all movements. He was grasping air as he had run a marathon, his eyes were opened, he tried again to sit, this time with success. John went to his side. Then noted the syringe under the bed, John took and smelled. He was positive, it was ketamine but that thing don’t gave hallucinations so fast, it needed to wear out to produce them, also the strong arousal wasn’t in the symptoms.

“Sherlock you were drugged, try to stay calm” He informed quickly.

“yes…” he whispered but his vice still carried that note of sensuality, John noted in that precise moment that  Sherlock was trying very hard to keep himself lucid. “ John…” he closed his eyes and fell again in the ground.

John needed to take him to a hospital, whatever Irene gave him was making Sherlock hallucinate, aroused and with fever for what he see on his face, daring no to touch him.

The doorbell sound, John sighed relieved, he went to opened the door and receive Lestrade, but the detective wasn’t alone, cops were waiting. Yeah the Americans.

“Shoots were reported from this direction” said a policeman behind Lestrade.

“We were attacked,” John started his explanation as he let them in the house. “One of them was killed by an accident and my friend, Sherlock and other woman were drugged” At this Lestrade’s face paled.

“Sweet God!” Lestrade exclaimed “Take me to him” He ordered, the policeman looked at them nonplused, Lestrade rolled his eyes. “Come on John” John obeyed guide the detective to the room.

Sherlock was sleeping or looked like, Lestrade went to him and touched his face. “Dear me he is boiling, can you guess what drug was?”

John gave him the syringe. “I think it was ketamine, but..”

Lestrade jumped far, his face in horror.

“Like how much?” He asked again observing Sherlock.

“I don’t know” John answered truthful.

“Blast!” Lestrade paced the room agitated.

“What is it?”

“It will be some days or some weeks before it wears out” Lestrade answered looking at John in the eyes. “No, he didn’t tell you what happens to him when he is drugged?” John whispered a clear no, he balanced his weight, he was getting worried now.

“Somehow his body reactions are very different with drugs, even the smallest portions get him high for days” Lestrade explained “Come on, let’s take him to his flat, just be careful, he gave queer names and sometimes he becomes very touchy”

“I’m warned” John joked. Greg giggled, he went first to Sherlock side at take his arm.

“Elrond” he whispered, but it sounded like a moan. Lestrade sighed and pulled. John went for the other arm. “my love” he said, Greg raised a frown at this.

“wait, why I had a funny name and he don’t?” Greg asked meanwhile they stood up pulling Sherlock with them. Sherlock head hung aimless.

“uilyë vennonya” Sherlock whispered his answered, John thought it was gibberish and Greg laughed, but John had heard it before, he can’t remember when or what but he sure that he had heard something like that before.

“the boys will love this” Greg said pulling out his mobile, he punched some buttons. “Sherlock, why I had a funny name and he don’t?” Greg asked cheerfully, John sighed.

“uuuil yess vennom ya” Sherlock slurred the same answer. Greg smiled and punched buttons.

“Thanks mate” Greg gave thanks to John, then they began to walk slowly carrying Sherlock that tried to help them in the walk. John was thankful that that between the two of them they can carry Sherlock.

They were in the stairs moving slow, when a team of paramedic stopped in front of them. “There is a woman in the bedroom, first door. She is unconscious” They nodded but didn’t leave. “We can handle him” Lestrade used his commanding voice.  The paramedics flew.  John guessed that hospital was out the question.

They manage to arrive at the door without more incidents, Sherlock looked like he knew what was happening around him and keep his mouth shout, but John felt how hot he was getting by the moment, the fever was making Sherlock sweat already.  He had never seen nothing like that.

“The cold air will help him” Lestrade said once they crossed the door and walked to the street. The air was cold and humid, it promised rain. Sherlock slowly raised his head, his eyes closed once he was facing the sky, he seemed to enjoy the cold in his skin.

“A bath it is” John said and Lestrade smiled.

“I leave that to you mate”

They hailed a cab, the ride was in silence, Sherlock tried to keep himself still, embracing himself, like he was afraid to touch something, his head still hanging aimless. They arrived to Baker Street with a very irritated cab, he yelled at them for getting a junkie inside his cab.

They paid extra fare.

In their way up, they crossed paths with Gandalf. John opened his mouth to explain the events, but the old man closed the gaps between them in an instant, his hands were examining Sherlock’s face expertly, watching the pupils, opening his mouth, touching the inside.

“What had done to you?” Gandalf asked worried.

“He was drugged” Lestrade answered irritated for the man and his familiarity with Sherlock.

“What?” Gandalf gave two unsure steps backs.

“Who is this man John?” Lestrade asked

“Mithrandir” Sherlock whispered making is best to watch at the old man. “ela!” he tried to confront the old man, to grab him, but he movements were even more unsure and uncoordinated. “cardalya sina” Sherlock manage to hissed at him. “úquétima sangwa” Gandalf walked backwards until his back touched the wall, Lestrade laughed merrily.

Sherlock gave up trying to catch the old man, he even lowered his head.

“Stop playing, we need to help Sherlock” John said pulling Sherlock and Lestrade up, Greg stopped laughing and they were soon climbing the stairs, Gandalf followed them in silence.

“Gandalf go ahead and prepare the tub with cold water” John ordered, Gandalf stood in front of them, his face sad.

“No” He said. “cold water is the last thing he needs”

“He had fever!” John called. “He could die!”

“No” Gandalf inhaled deep and advanced at Sherlock, John noted that the old man was weary in his steps and his movements. His hands touched the face and raised slowly. “Boiling water? Or athelas?”

“Move old man, we need to broke his fever” John urged.

“neither” Sherlock managed to hiss, he stared at the wizard with the last of his strength before collapse. John and Lestrade struggled with him to keep him from hit the floor.

“This call for ice” John said angry to Lestrade.

“No, no, no” Gandalf helped them. “If you cool him down now, it will took him weeks to fully recover, and he will be very mad if he misses The Birthday” Gandalf said to them. “Just let him sleep and he will okay in a couple of hours”

Lestrade and John shared looks, that sounded fool and dangerous, Sherlock could die for the fever.

“Please, trust me. He needs the warm and the heat to be okay, I’m sure one of you already knows how slow he gets when there it’s too much cold” Lestraded watched at John with that knowing look in his face.

“All right, but if he doesn’t get better by tomorrow, we take him in a hospital” John said.

They carried Sherlock to his bedroom, they laid him in the bed and covered with so many covers and blankets that Sherlock own, Gandalf found his staff in deepness of the closet, he sighed. Gandalf took the staff and put it in Sherlock’s hands.

“Wait” John was already protesting.

“It will help him to no wander off” Gandalf explained, then urged them to exit the room. Once the three were out, Gandalf looked once last time inside and whispered “nainëan”, then closed the door and walked to the sitting room.

John went to the kitchen and prepared tea, Lestrade was with him, fidgeting nervously.

“who is that man, John?”

“His name is Gandalf, Sherlock helped him some days ago. They are somewhat of friends or were, not sure of their status, but they certainly know each other”

“I had never heard about him” Lestrade mentioned, he helped John with the tray and the mugs. They joined Gandalf in the sitting room and offered tea, he accepted. His mood was on the floor.

“Gandalf, this is detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, Greg this is Gandalf” John made the introductions fast, both men held hands.  They took places in the sofa. Gandalf was left in the middle.

“So how did you meet Sherlock?” Greg asked, he was the first in broke the awkward silence.

“Like everyone else, by the songs of old” Gandalf answered no paying attentions at his own words. Greg busted in laughs.

“Seriously? I didn’t know people wrote songs about Sherlock, those must be on YouTube” Greg pulled out his mobile and began to punch buttons, by mistake the voice of Sherlock slurring words come to life. Gandalf looked at Greg stunned.

“What was that?” He asked.

Greg stopped what he was doing, he showed the screen of his mobile with the image of Sherlock on it. “just Sherlock talking gibberish”

“Can you repeat it?” Gandalf asked.

“Sure, it quite fun!” Greg punched a pair of buttons and the video come to a like, replaying Greg asking the question and the slurred answer.

“by all the stars” Gandalf lamented.

“You know what that means?” John asked tying the ends.

“He said, you’re not my husband”  Greg busted laughing but then stopped dead serious.

“wait, that’s actually a language? Then he wasn’t gibberish at you downstairs?” Greg asked forgetting his joke.

“An old language, detective inspector” Gandalf left his mug on the table and stood up, he watched both men staring at him, sighed and gave up his escape and sat down. “something that hasn’t been heard on this land in so long. Once, it was the language of the first born, then of the kings and queens, and now it is a forgotten memory in two old creatures that use it to remind each other of what they lost” The man looked at his hands.

“it wasn’t gibberish” John stated looking at the old man and Greg, his tea forgotten in the table.

“No” Gandalf whispered back. “He just emphasize why I should not be here when he awoke”

“He’ll get a hell of hangover” Greg said hopeful “I had seen before. Nothing we can deal”

“No, it’s nothing like that” Gandalf said firmly. “He was angry at me when he saw me downstairs and he will be when he woke up”

“But why? I mean, he helped you the other day like he was your friend” John commented, Gandalf sketched a tiny smile in his face.

“He helped me because of my staff” Gandalf answered slowly. “He knows that the staff must be guarded, it ‘s probably the only weapon we had if something happens”

“He mentioned that it was one of the most powerful weapons” John commented, Lestrade opened his mouth as if what he was hearing was some kind of game.

The door of the flat opened in that moment, Lestrade stood up in reaction. John saw Mycroft stood in the door, his emotionless face and cold glare was directed at Gandalf who in return ignored him.

“Where is my brother?” Mycroft demanded next second.

“Sherlock is in his room, something wrong?” John asked standing up. He disliked when the elder brother come demanding things.

“Of course Doctor Watson, I heard you had some trouble with Miss Irene Adler. I want to know if my brother is well ” Mycroft explained himself.

“He was drugged” John answered coldly.

“Dear lord” Mycroft sighed, his umbrella fell and both hands were in his face. “Can you told me what drug was?”

“I believe she used ketamine, but I can be wrong, Sherlock behave as if he had Mandy running in his system” John said and Lestrade searched in his pocket and gave the syringe to Mycroft. “You can test it”

“This is very bad John” Mycroft suddenly glared at John, his hands looking for the mobile. “The last time he had anphetamines, it lasted for a month. He was out of his mind calling for his mate and afterwards he was so depressed”

“So that explain the husband phrase” Gandalf smiled, John noted how pale Gandalf was so suddenly. “he’s going to be really mad at me” then tears pulled as he lowered his head. Lestrade looked at him really puzzled.

“Wait wait, hold on. You mean, you had seen him too in that state? Gandalf what do you mean?” John asked walking to his armchair, he can guard the door of his friend from that place.

“Doctor Watson, I can only said that every time he is drugged, the drugs affect him different some how, so far we only know the effects of four drugs. But my guess now, is that this man knows more than he is willing to give us, doesn’t Mister Gandalf” Mycroft walked to same armchair and sit there, Lestrade went to pick up the umbrella and  gave it to Mycroft, he returned to Gandalf and sat at his side.

“I do. I know about him, but the problem is, you’re not willing to believe in whatever I had to say about him. No matter how many facts you had witnessed, you won’t believe” Gandalf dried his eyes with his sleeves. “Just now, trust me. He only needs to be warm”

“I admit, he can do this weird hypnotic trick to keep me in silence. He had performed on several persons with the same result” Mycroft admitted.

“That’s what I was talking about” Gandalf sighed. “He uses magic to silence you and you called hypnotic trick” He stood up. “If you excuse me, I will try to go to the other side of the world. When he woke up and find that he had missed The Birthday, I won’t be allowed to even be in the same city. I had done whatever I can to help him”

“Is that what you call September 22?” Mycroft asked quickly. “A birthday?”

“So you know” Gandalf tried to put a smile on his face “I hope you can grasp the importance of that date for him. Farewell friends” He tried to end his stay in the flat with a last apologetically glance to them.

“No so quick mister” Lestrade walked faster and stopped Gandalf before he could even grab the handle. “You’re going to sit down and told us everything. Maybe I haven’t see him perform this trick or magic you say, but I had seen him in those birthday day, as you called them, very, very depressed.  And I can tell that he really misses something”

Gandalf stared at Lestrade with a newfound hope, he smiled at the man.

“Of course” Gandalf sat down still smiling. “Only the ones that had lost something beloved can understand” Gandalf nodes several times, his eyes closed and his smile tight. Like he was trying to come to terms with something, Lestrade looked at them and John wondered what was talking the old man, what has lost Lestrade?

“My brother when he was little, he often talked about _his home_. It made him mad when nobody believed him, and one day he just clamped on. He refused to talk about this home and these characters, that at the time, my parents and I believed that everything was just a tale. But he managed every September 22th to sneak out and went to the Thames. One year, we manage to keep him in the house, he refused to talk to us for months, but what I recall the most, is that in that day when we heard him crying, we felt like mourning. It was the worst day on our lives.”

 “I had felt it once” Gandalf admitted interrupting Mycroft. “It’s part of him, so you can imagine how people felt when he is really angry or very happy”

“I sometimes thought that his happiness for murders was just contagious” John added too.

“Me too” Greg chirped.

“So why it’s called the Birthday? Someone born on that date? Something special happened?” John asked before the man sealed his lips again.

“Yes to both questions. September 22th saw born two of the most wonderful creatures and after a great deed for part one of them, it was held as holyday in a country” Gandalf explained carefully.

“I can’t recall no country celebrating anything on that day” Mycroft recited as a fact.

“Indeed. No country know by any man of this age, but for all men of our Age.” Gandalf answered, to John sounded as a puzzle, but suddenly something poked at his mind.

 “Wait, you said” John looked at Gandalf “That you knew Sherlock for songs, and before you joked about being kidnapped and being left in a strange city”

“and you said something about his mate” John looked at Mycroft ”that had something to do with what he said to us, the thing about the husband” John gasped air and continued. “What’s going on?”

“He was very old already when I meet him in person the first time” Gandalf answered. “I left Sherlock in London almost seven and twenty years later. The Holmes picked him under the believe he was only a child of seven”

“He was a child of seven!” Mycroft called. “He was so tiny and fragile that my mother fell in love with him the first time she saw him. She adopted him because he was so smart at his age”

“A seven years old child that knows perfectly the common tongue, that can deduce things just by observing, a child that grows bored when tried to taught him how to read and write, a child that can make math in moments, a child that can tell who is wearing gold, what is fake gold and fine gold.”

“You were stalking him!” Mycroft accused Gandalf, his face tinted with red but otherwise he remained seated, calm and elegantly.

“He already knew how to do that things when I meet him, he later was taught in the social etiquette  by…” Gandalf stopped suddenly, he looked at John, at Greg and Mycroft, he thought. “…My friend”

“Not so well” retorted John.

“Which friend?” Demanded Mycroft, John had the impression that the elder Holmes will search for that friend and bring here at moment the old man spilled a name. Fake or real.

“The owner of The Birthday, unfortunately deceased.  I promised to pronounce its name ever again” Gandalf answered.

“Why so? The wrath of Sherlock?” Greg asked.

“No, because my friend made me promise that we don’t said his name after he passed away”

“That’s cruel” John commented.

“The same friend you were talking with Sherlock? Or this is another dead friend?” John was joining the dots quickly. Gandalf looked at him with a dim Smile.

“The very same Doctor Watson, the very same” Gandalf answered.

 

**September 15 th, Wednesday.**

John watched Sherlock trash in his bed, the strings of sounds sometimes formed vowels and consonants, but not word know in the modern English, he was getting worried. Sherlock looked worse than the day before.  He watched his hand clock and pondered how more his friend would take. The fever looked intense and the heat in the room was unbearable.

Gandalf entered the room, he had managed to braid his bear and tuck under his shirt and comb his hair in a bum, his pierce grey eyes were focused solely on Sherlock. In his hands was a bowl, presumable with the medicine for Sherlock. A strange naturist recipe of kingsfoil and other plants, all of them mixed with cold water.

“Help me to sit him” Commanded Gandalf, John obeyed. He sat down at Sherlock right meanwhile Gandalf stood at the left, they struggled to keep Sherlock under control and lift him. “I would deny my participation on this” Said Gandalf again.

“Yes of course, all was my idea and I torture you for the information” parroted John, Gandalf gave John the bowl with the medicine and John hold Sherlock’s face and forced the medicine into his mouth.

John waited for Sherlock to spit out the medicine, but he saw how the medicine was gulped down slowly, without waste a single drop. For a moment, it was like Sherlock was too thirsty for care about what he was dinking, but then John noted that Sherlock had his blurry eyes fixed on him, smiling like a fool, obeying every word John said.

“He is mistaking you for his husband” Gandalf commented. Then in silently agreement they laid down Sherlock and left his room.

“Pardon? His husband?” John angry threw the bowl to the sink. He glared to Gandalf and waited for answers. “Care to expand on that subject. Last time I checked, his older brother accused him of sex ignorant”

“For the stars in the sky” Gandalf lamented covering his face, he walked to Sherlock’s armchair and sat down.

“It had to do with what he said to Lestrade in that language yesterday, isn’t?” John demanded as he stood in front of the old man.

“Yes” Gandalf whispered his answer. “But I had said to much already, if he had kept that as a secret then I should keep it as well”

Gandalf joined his hand as a prayer and closed his eyes, John guessed the old man was indeed praying. He felt uncomfortable at the sight.

“Please, don’t ask him” Gandalf whispered after a while. “He never talked about that even before we come to this city” Gandalf kept his eyes closed and his hands joined, he suddenly looked weak and fragile.

“That man is a bloody mystery” John gave up after half an hour. He decided that write on is blog will keep his mind from wondering. Tying knots where no rope was.

John went for dinner after nightfall and shared it with Gandalf, the man was a good talker if the topic wasn’t Sherlock or their past, he even dared to steal some of the nicotine patch of Sherlock and use it. The man suddenly, more relaxed talked about smoke.

“and when in home of Mr Baggins, we had this little contest about smoke rings and other smoke figures, it always annoyed Sherlock to not end. But then the next year, Sherlock joined us at the contest, and you know, we were at disadvantage with him. He could manipulate the smoke with a mastery that I presume he mastered in the years he spent alone.” Gandalf stop his narrative, John saw a sudden panic crawl in his being.

“I won’t tell a word” John swore.

Gandalf stood up. “If he woke up, tell me” He then looked at the sofa at the end of the sitting room and sighed. John remembered that the man had no place to sleep and the last couple of days he had been sleeping in Sherlock’s room.

“Go to my room Gandalf, upstairs” John said, Gandalf looked for a moment, with doubt but nodded.

“Thank you and good night” Gandalf headed to the stairs, in silence. John waited some minutes, then he returned to Sherlock’s room and sat down in a chair next to his bed. Sherlock was finally sleeping peacefully.

John dreamt about a world of smoke where people was made of smoke and their homes of clouds. John didn’t remember when he woke up the next morning, he had a blanket on him and the bed was empty.

He felt fear crawl on his back but the sudden voices at the other side of the door calmed him instantly. John stood up and stretched until his bones popped. His shoulder cried in paint but some movements calmed it.

John found Sherlock sat down in the rug and Gandalf manipulating his right arm in a way he was sure it will crack all the bones, but for the faces Sherlock was making it was the contrary.

“pull Gandalf” Sherlock ordered, Gandalf sighed and pulled.

“Good day Doctor Watson” Gandalf greeted him still pulling. “Dear me, I can’t!” the old man gave up and left the hand fell. “I have no more strength to do this” Gandalf looked at John, a smile was on the next moment. “What about we teach the good doctor do this?” Gandalf asked.

John noted that for the first time in days, Gandalf was in a very good mood, smiling and laughing around Sherlock, like something was lifted from his body.

“John?” Sherlock looked at him, his eyes today looked blue but certainly clearer, free from yesterday’s drugs. “it’s all right” Sherlock conceded.

“Come Doctor Watson” Gandalf moved freeing his spot next to Sherlock.

“I’m glad you’re all right Sherlock, but what I’m going to learn?” John asked as he moved next to Sherlock.

“To stretch his wings” Gandalf said and Sherlock glared at him. Gandalf smile banished from his face and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Yes my wings” Sherlock said and Gandalf smile returned shyly.

“Your wings?” John asked, but none of them bothered to answer, instead Gandalf set to instruct John.

“Put your right hand here, on the shoulder blade. Can you feel the muscles?” John put his hand and felt the muscles, it was weird. His medical training screamed wrong, those muscles shouldn’t be there or exist at all. “This group is particularly cramped, it happens when Sherlock remains in this tiny form for so long, it make cramp the rest of his arm, we need to stretch it. Now, took his wrist and twist it, feel the muscles”  John did as instructed, when the wrist twisted in his hand he felt the muscles on the shoulder blade move.

“This is uncanny” John muttered.

“Now John, with all your strength, pull the arm away from the shoulder, pull until you fell the muscles pop” Gandalf added.

“It will hurt Sherlock” John said worried.

“No it wont, it will help him greatly” Gandalf assured him. John sighed.

“Ready Sherlock?” John asked, and received a hum for answer.

John pulled the arm, he felt the muscles move, for an instant he thought that he was hurting Sherlock but there wasn’t any cry of pain, so he kept pulling until he felt the muscles pop, just as Gandalf said. At the same moment he heard a relieved sigh from Sherlock.

“Wonderful” Gandalf cheered. “Now the other arm”

John did the same to the left arm and get the same reaction. His medical curiosity obliged him to inspect the muscles. They felt different, like they never were there.

“As much I appreciate the help John, you can stop touching my shoulders” Sherlock said suddenly. John stepped back and watched how Sherlock opened and closed his fist and moved his arms.

“When was the last time someone stretched your wings?” Gandalf asked and Sherlock stop any motion, counting in his mind.

“Sam was the last one” Sherlock answered. “I did ask the Holmes to do it, but they refused profusely. I had to get used to the feeling, and as much as I stretched, it didn’t help”

“And why you didn’t ask me?” John asked angered.

“Because I also get used at getting a big no every time I asked it” Sherlock said.

“I am so sorry old friend” Gandalf said “If I have stayed you had never suffer from it too”

“It’s all right” Sherlock put a hand on the shoulder of the old man.  Sherlock gathered his sheet and left the sitting room.

John went to the kitchen. “Tea Gandalf?”

“Yes, please” Gandalf sat down on Sherlock’s armchair.

“So what happened?” John asked once he gave a cup to Gandalf and he sat down on his armchair. “You look well, less afraid of him.”

“I am old Doctor Watson and a fool” Gandalf sipped his tea “all this suffering could be prevent if I had had the courage to stay, if I had held my word like he does. But I didn’t. He has shown me once again why he was loved and cared. He told me that he had wanted to find me since the first day we parted ways, because he considers me his family”

 

 

**September 22th, Wednesday.**

The morning finally set in, John was still nervous and his anxiety prevent him for a good nigh sleep, so he got up very early in the morning at get ready. He waited for them in the sitting room, felling the rush under his skin and in every nerve.

He had never felt like this before.

Today was the day.

Sherlock was the first in show in, he was dashing. He combed his hair backwards with heavy oil, his curls were nowhere to be seen. His dark cloths were beautiful and gave him, a strange aura.  John couldn’t help but blush at the sight.

Then Gandalf come in, his white robe perfectly clean and his hat well ironed. Even his white beard was braided and looked wiser and older.

Sherlock gave him his staff and Sherlock tucked a red envelope in the pocket of his coat as they made their way outside the flat.

It was barely five in the morning; the city was still sleeping and the stars were watching them down. John felt the cold air kiss his skin, but didn’t complain for the cold. Sherlock cached a cab, and their ride begun.

“To Rainham Marshes, the nature reserve” Sherlock asked, the cabbie yawned but said nothing. Gandalf looked at Sherlock unbelieving. “Not the docs this year” Sherlock explained softly. Gandalf hummed his answer and no word was said during the rest of the ride.

During the fifty minutes of ride, John watched the city slowly welcoming the sun, some parts of the city were more awake than others, but the cabbie knew how to avoid them and make a better time. Slowly the tall buildings gave space to lowers buildings until marshes come to view.  The sunrise was in front of them coloring slowly the landscape.

The cabbie was about to protest for enter the dirty road with his cab, but Sherlock instructed the man to left the on the Tank hill road.  John almost dismayed by the fare Sherlock paid to the man but choose wisely to say nothing. Sherlock begun to walk toward the Thames.

John thought they will stay nearby the houses, but Sherlock keep walking toward the marches, Gandalf seemed happy to walk behind him, admiring the landscape and the dark sky.

They found a road and followed, this road was draw to walk beside the river. John felt his body singing with happiness, the troll, cold or not, was a good one.  They stopped in a shore. Little birds, swans, egrets, falcons, frogs, insects come in hundreds to where they were standing, the birds used Gandalf and John as a rack. Gandalf giggled happily, the bids on his shoulders were annoyed but didn’t flew away. John looked at Sherlock, no bird or insect or other creature dared to approach him, it was like they were admiring him.

Then, the sky filed with carrion crows, theirs numbers were greater than the other birds, John feared for his well being, but the crows landed behind them, keeping their distance too. Their voices filled the silence for few minutes until a group of egrets screamed and every bird fell silent.

“I never knew you were this popular with birds” Gandalf said.

“I don’t” Sherlock said, his eyes were on the waters of the river. For a moment, John saw on him, the despair Lestrade and Gandalf assured it existed. The birds suddenly started to sing, their mixed melodies and their high pitched voiced forced John to cover his ears. Gandalf giggled, he extended his arms with his staff, little birds of different colors occupy the staff making a loud chorus.

“Their happy to see an ancient creature still alive” said Gandalf.

For a whole hour the birds sang, John was mesmerized at the birds and their colours, but wondered why the carrions crows were looking at the marshes like they were expecting something to happen. One of them, further away began to crow, and like a tide their voices muted the other birds.

“Hey!” A woman come walking, she stopped in front of John a good ten yards away, her surprise at the sight of so many birds didn’t allow her to produce a single word coherently.

“Good morning” John greeted, he dared to walk to her with birds and all. The birds didn’t seem to mind to be transported some yards, but the carrion crows took offense and put themselves in his path.

“It’s amazing, I have never seen this before, I think this is unprecedented” She said. John shrugged. “Are you guys using something?”

“Nothing” John answered showing his empty hands.

“I had to record this” She said and ran away. John returned to his place, Sherlock was in the same place, Gandalf no. He was at his side, sitting with a good bunch of birds in his hat and shoulders.

“When is he…” John tried to ask but the birds begun to sing loud again.

The sun was rising beautiful and the chorus was gaining a cadence. He felt that his wild nature observing fee was paid for the next years.  There were stunning birds and strange insects, beautiful songs and ugly sounds. John thought that maybe in an hour, they could return to Baker Street and had a proper breakfast. John sat down next to Gandalf and observed the horizon and its changing blue, the birds come and gone, Sherlock looking at the river and sometimes his clock.

John didn’t remember falling asleep on Gandalf’s shoulder, neither having a dozen of little mice and dozens of singing birds on his laps, the sun was up on the sky and the cold breeze smelled to ocean.  The birds stopped their song, their faces moved south and to the sky.

Flying lazy a gull was coming. A single white gull.

“Dear me” Gandalf whispered, they both stand up. Sherlock offered his hand to the bird and the gull sat on his arm elegantly. She was pure white and its peck looked like gold. Her tiny eyes shone like black obsidian.

She cried a couple of times, John felt a pang in his heart, it felt like homesick compressed in a tiny pill swallowed without water. She cried more glancing at them. John felt like she hates them for being there. Some birds flew away under that glare.

“They’re Gandalf the white and John the healer” Sherlock said to the gull, she glared at him and cried more, she ruffled her feather and demanded something. Egrets flew in all directions, their sings sounded to John like coordinate commands between them. The gull gave a beautiful cry, then offered his right leg.

There was something attached to it, with silver ribbons and golden paper. Gandalf approached, he did a reverence to the gull and proceeded to undo the bow and retrieve the paper, the gull cried in discomfort but she remained still looking with disdain at the old man.

“It’s a letter from Lord Elrond” Gandalf read. “May the stars guide this messenger to our friend” it simply had. Gandalf sobbed. “They are looking for us”

“Only you” Sherlock corrected.

“No, it had to be us. Both of us” Gandalf insisted. The gull cried angry. They looked at the gull. “What did she say?”

“None” Sherlock voice dropped, as if his hope was crushed. “She was commanded to find the elvish king in the west and gave a message, she only come here because of the staff”

The egrets returned, one by one puked a whole fish at Sherlock feet and returned to the marshal. The gull descended to the fishes and begun to eat them.

“Sherlock” John called softly.

“It’s fine John” Sherlock returned his sight to the waters of the river.

The gull stopped with a fish still in his peck, she looked at John then at Sherlock, her sight suddenly was curious and soft, the fishes in her belly had calmed down her hungry and her angry. She engulfed the rest of the fish and cried.

Everyone was waiting an answer, the gull cried again, and again and again until a carrion crow flew and stood in front of her, they cried at each other, John had the feeling that they both were arguing.

Gandalf sighed and sat again next to Sherlock, mice come to climb at his lap, birds sat at his hat and frogs stayed at their sight. Finally a Falcon come and cried from the sky, birds and mice shivered in fear.

Sherlock offered his hand to the prey bird and she sat in his arm, she gave her back to Sherlock and began to cried to the gull and the carrion crow.

“If an owl was around here, they will shut up and listen the owl” Gandalf said “but in the end I think, Sherlock is the one with the last word in that discussion”

“Did you understand them?” John asked, Gandalf smiled.

“I’m afraid I can longer hear them” Gandalf pet one the mice. “It was part of the price I had to pay for left Sherlock alone”

John watched Sherlock, the cries of the birds were suffocating his patient, it was like seeing a child in the middle of an argument between his parents. Sherlock eventually closed his eyes and sighed.

“Can you discus the matter in other place?” Sherlock asked, the birds ignored him blatantly. Sherlock nodded at his failure. “Shut up!” He screamed and the birds fell silent, they look at him in wild horror, like remembering what was Sherlock. “Please” He added before return his gaze to the ever changing waters of the rivers. For minutes the birds looked at Sherlock.

The carrion crow called first, he flew around Sherlock and returned to his flock, the falcon left the arm and descend to the ground, she bowed in front of the gull and then flew away crying. The gull was left alone. She looked at Sherlock then at the fish, again at Sherlock and then to Gandalf and John, she looked troubled.

She cried and cried. She flew to Sherlock and landed in his shoulder, she kept crying. Sherlock closed his eyes.

“That’s true” He finally answered her, John felt like he had missed all the chat, he wondered what the birds were talking. The gull ruffled her feathers, like trying to change the topic.

Then the water gave intense sun reflections, the gull flew to that part of the river and Sherlock took off his shoes, his socks and his coat, he retrieved his envelope and began to walk in the river, soaking his trousers.

“This is it” Gandalf said.

“What?” John asked trying to distinguish something in the water, but he only saw waves reflecting the sun.

“Observe” Gandalf signaled the waves, John focused on the water, for a moment he thought he saw faces on the waves, he stood up excited and scared. The faces were more distinguishably from that angle.

Sherlock walked until the water soaked his hips and the gull swimming come to his side. John wished to be next to him and hear what Sherlock saying, because he almost heard his voice speaking.

“He is greeting the spirits of water” Gandalf said. “He is being polite to them but,  I think they are laughing of him.” The gull cried angry them, John heard her cry clearly.

Ducks and egrets flew and landed around the gull and Sherlock, they were swimming around the waves. Sherlock tried to scare out the aquatics birds but they were very persistent, slowly more ducks and egrets and swans and others aquatics birds surround them. The carrion crows flew to them making circles, it was like a discussion on a pull, their calls and cries muted all other sounds.

“Dear me, that’s beautiful” The woman of the morning pop up from behind them, she was carrying a lot of professional cameras and tripods, she began to take photography. Gandalf looked at her but kept his silent.

The carrion crows surrender and returned to land, they landed on John, Gandalf and the woman, some of the birds stole the cameras and picket at it, the woman tried to defend her equipment but failed.

“No!” John heard the lament Sherlock cried, the waves were gone and the birds slowly began to leave the river too.

“Go for him!” Gandalf called John raced to the water, soaking all his cloths, the cold of the water numbed his skin and his finger, the current took hold of him and John had to fight to get with Sherlock. He caught Sherlock when he tried to swimming in the river, John fought with him but manage to bring him back to the shore, John kept him, hugging him and Sherlock returned the hug, John heard the sobs and felt his body shiver.

John felt the adrenalin low down and with that the cold of his body and numbness of his fingers, he felt himself shaking, but that doesn’t mattered right now, his friend was in emotional shock, somewhat lost.

Gandalf kneeled at their side. “We had to take him home” John nodded. They help each other to stood Sherlock, Gandalf retrieved his items and begun the slowly walk to the town.

John glanced once last time to see at the river, the gull was still there looking at them. She flew to where the rest of the fishes where and begun to ate them.

They walked for good twenty minutes, the woman of the morning keep walking behind them, she had been a silent witness and she keep asking question, but Gandalf had said, to not mind her. They needed to get Sherlock home as soon as possible.

The afternoon sun helped to dry their cloths, John gave thanks for that little mercy in this day. In the town, they found a bench, John and Gandalf put on Sherlock the socks and shoes, he was like a walking dead: mindless and unresponsive. They put the coat on his shoulders, more like a blanket that a piece of clothing. Then they tried to find a cab.

The woman offered the advice of calling one, since this part of London all the inhabitants had their own cars and therefore public transportations was sporadic. She invited them to her house and offered them a hot bat for Sherlock.

John at first wanted to said no, but the trembling body of Sherlock moved to said yes.

“My name is Vannesa, please follow me” She said and they follow her.

Her house was not far, it was like a little cottage, with a garden filled with all kind of flowers and plants, she let them in and showed them the bath.

It was a small room painted in pink with a large white tube, she opened the hot water and left them. Gandalf exited the room, probably to talk with her.

John slowly undressed Sherlock, he took of every garment he was wearing, and guide him to the tub, John was afraid that the scalding water would hurt him but Sherlock’s seemed to resist the temperature. Sherlock looked more comfortable in the hot water now.

A soft know pulled John out of his thoughts.

“Vannesa is willing to lend us her washer and dryer” Gandalf said, John picked up Sherlock cloths and handed them to Gandalf, but Gandalf didn’t leave. “You too dear doctor” and suddenly John remembered that he was soaked too, so he undressed and gave everything to Gandalf.

“You should take a bath too” Gandalf suggested.

“Yes I need it” John confessed, being naked in front of the old man somewhat didn’t shy him like he hoped.

“The towels are in the upper shelve, she is okay within the soap and the shampoo” Gandalf said and disappeared.

John looked for the towels, but didn’t put one. He instead left them on the toilet and decided to wash them both. John touched the water, and for his surprise the water was almost cold. John emptied the tubs and opened the shower tempering the water at his taste.

He took the soap and began to scrub Sherlock skin, first his arms, then his legs. All slowly and tenderly. John could felt his heart pumping crazy but he knew that his friends was gone inside his mind. So he tried to kept his mind out of those thoughts and tried to finish scrubbing.

John begun scrubbing the chest and went to the belly, for a moment, John paused his hand and stared, in the chest over his heart was the scar with the form of a heart, but looked more like a scale of a mermaid tattooed very handsome, John touched it and his finger felt the skin texture difference, he raised his head, his heart stopped a second. Sherlock eyes fixed on him, his eyes looked blue and green and gold, and they were stunning when they weren’t scanning for details, clouded by coldness, filled with sadness or simply shut. John felt himself lost at the sight

“John” Sherlock whispered.

“It’s all right” John moved away to retrieve the shampoo. “This woman, Vanessa is helping us” John said pouring some shampoo on Sherlock’s hair. “She was afraid when the river pushed you” John washed Sherlock hair.

Sherlock remained in silence, he allowed John to wash him with further words, it felt like a child beaten up and the paint was fresh on his skin.

“I don’t know what happened and I don’t want to know, but I want you to know that if there something I can do for help, I’ll do it, gladly.” John told him as he poured water in his face.

“Thank you” Sherlock answered.

“It’s okay” John hugged Sherlock, pressing him to his bared chest and stroking his curled hair.

“No, its not” Sherlock sobbed, his hot hands were on John’s back.

John stood with him under the hot shower, until Gandalf called them. Sherlock somehow manage to gulped down his sobs and washed his face, he stepped out at took one of the towels, John washed himself in record time and stepped out the shower, he took the towel left.

John opened the door and called Gandalf, he gave them their clean cloths. “I will be waiting with Vannesa, she made lunch for us” He added.

They both descended to the dinner room, Vannesa had prepared the table and she was giggling with Gandalf like they were old friends.

“I’m very sorry for disturb you” John said first. Vannesa smiled.

“Not a problem at all, is your friend okay?” She asked, John then knew that Sherlock was not longer at his back, he looked and hi was standing at the door, his face was melancholic and had never looked more lonely than any other time John knew him.

“Yes, I think so” John said “Thank you. For everything, it is good to know that there is good people in the world”

“You’re welcome and thank you” She stood up “Gandalf said that neither of you had breakfast so I made lunch for all of us, I hope you like it” She said in a tone that the no was not an option.

“Yes he is right, but ....” John sighed “I think he won’t join us”

Gandalf looked at Sherlock, his were filled with worry, but he sighed and smiled. “Please serve the food, I will bring him”

John helped the woman, she had prepared a mushrooms omelette, toast bread and fresh apple juice, they served the food and waited just for few seconds. Gandalf returned, followed by Sherlock.

A tiny smile graced Sherlock lips at the sight of the food. For a moment John saw the shadow of a deep sorrow cross his eyes but it was gone in a heartbeat. They said their thanks to Vannesa and ate. Gandalf made little chat again with her, John only heard two bird fans talking to each other about the event of the morning, Sherlock ate slowly, munching every mushroom for so long. Like John had always saw to do whenever they share dinner.

He noted how the mushroom brought some sort of pace to Sherlock and very slowly, the man he met in St’s Bart months ago was returning. John felt relieve at the sight.

Gandalf mentioned suddenly that their cab was like twenty minutes to arrive, and Vannesa said thirty. They laughed and Sherlock fixed his cold glare on the window, in a way suggesting that he wanted to be home or in some other place, preferable in a scene of crime.

A peck knocked on the windows several times, they fell silent. Sherlock stood up quickly and went to the windows, John followed calling after him. “Sherlock, is very rude of you to stand like this in the middle of a meal”

But Sherlock was already opening the window. A carrion crow enter flapping his wings around al the sitting room until Sherlock offered his arm. The bird took the arm and calmed down. He saw Sherlock at his eyes and cried several times.

“Oh My God” Vannesa whispered in amusement. “It’s been too long since I saw someone train a crow”

“He doesn’t train bird or keep any pets” John corrected her.

The carrion crow bowed displaying his flying feather and then flew out the house. Sherlock in frenzy looked for his coat, Gandalf pointed to the hanger, Sherlock pulled out his notebook and pen before exiting the room.

“Sherlock, where the bloody hell are you going?” John called after him, following outside the house, Gandalf at his back.

Sherlock was writing furiously on his notebook, walking in same pace, he stopped in front a bench, the carrion crow descended from a near roof bringing along the white gull.

John felt the urgency of punch that bird, but her call, once again, punctured his heart. Sherlock stood in front of the birds still writing. Vannesa was at his side watching bewildered the interaction, the merely presence of the gull in this zone was beyond stunning and odd.

Sherlock ripped the sheet from his notebook and folded several times.

“I think you will need the spell” Gandalf said offering the gold lace and the silver paper. Sherlock took them and careful braided the three together. Neither of them saw what exactly Sherlock was doing with the strings, but as soon as he was finished, the gull opened her wings and offered her leg.

“Thank you” Sherlock said to the bird and careful tied the strings to her leg, the gull for once, looked guilt and the carrion crow was often pecking at her head. Then it croaked and the gull nodded.

She cried a couple of times, and Sherlock started at them.

“But... it’s too much already” He said in a tune John had never heard before, it was a mixture of relief and hope. The gull called again. Sherlock seemed in deep thought, then he pulled out his mobile. “Just this, but if it is too much just tell me”

“Is he talking to the birds?” Vannesa asked, and Gandalf grabbed her arm preventing her to going where Sherlock was.

The song, the violin song begun to sound. The gull cried a couple of times, the crow called at her and she lowered her head, listening. “No its okay, if is too much for you I won’t press” The gull then began to cried following the notes of the melody.

Her voice made the melody sound like it was keyed in a piano. John in that moment, believed that his heart will break for sure. He saw Vannesa crying and Gandalf smiling.

The melody ended and the gull repeated the song once more, the carrion crow bowed at her. The gull cried something like a good bye and jump into the sky, a hundreds of other birds followed her, John followed her in the sky as they flew away.

Their cab arrived only minutes after. They said their good byes to Vannesa and promises of meetings. That afternoon Sherlock kept the good mood, and the next few days, even the visit of Mycrof the next day seemed to no affect his good mood.

 

**April 6 th, Wednesday**

Sherlock and John were returning to Baker street earlier than hoped. John was giving thanks to all the gods in the sky for that small mercy.  He also felt content to see his friend in good spirits after solving that particular case.

The flat welcomed them with the smell of cupcakes and tea. Mrs Hudson greeted them with a pantry full cupcakes, she commented on how wonderful was Gandalf. John thanked the tray and followed Sherlock to their shared flat.

Sherlock was frozen in the door, his hands were shaking and he was unable to open the door. “Sherlock? What’s wrong?”

“The gull is back” He said. Sherlock slowly kneeled and picked up a white feather. His fingers were shivering.

“What gull? Sherlock just enter the flat” John sighed, this fine day ended early. He passed Sherlock and entered the flat, Gandalf was seated on the sofa looking at the gull standing in the table, the bird was pecking a fish filling everything with scales and skin.

The gull cried at when she saw them.

“Doctor Watson” Gandalf stood up, his eyes were pleading to John and his hands were grasping part of his flower stamped shirt, he tried to said something but words failed him every time he tried.

“Bloody Hell Gandalf” John said walking to the bird, he saw for a moment and then, like everything else in his live, he sighed and went to kitchen, he wanted tea for those delicious smelled cupcakes. The gull cried again, this time melancholic.

“I’m sure the fish was pleasant” Sherlock whispered, John had forgotten that Sherlock understood those birds and he actually had whole conversations with them.  The gull cried again and John heard the bird peck on the table. He saw Sherlock walk nervous around the sitting room, if he didn’t knew best, he could almost sword that that was his bored walking pleading for some poor human being murdered in the most bizarre way.

Gandalf joined him and helped with the cups.

“Probably had news from home” Gandalf said. “probably we finally had a communication line with our friends” Gandalf hoped, his eyes shone with happiness.

“uh, that’s good” John said pouring the tea on the cups. “Very good, to you both I think” John looked at his friend still pacing, then he knew. Sherlock was impatient for the gull to end with her meal and learn what else she had to said.

“This probably the best thing that happened in the last seven and twenty years”, Gandalf cleaned his eyes, he was tearing happy tears.

The gull cried and they both saw the bird flew to Sherlock arm and offered her leg.

“A letter?” Gandalf went to Sherlock and helped him to untie strings of silver and god and paper. Gandalf unfolded the paper and without reading offered to Sherlock.

“You have more right to read it first my friend” Gandalf said, the gull flew back to the table.  John left the cups, his curiosity put apart the cupcakes and the tea.

“I should” Sherlock hesitated in take the letter, he fidgeted with it until he manage to take a deep breath and unfold the paper.

“ _Dearest friends_ ” Sherlock read slowly, John heard emotion in those words.

“It’s from the queen herself” Gandalf said happy.

“Yes, it’s her handwrite” Sherlock accepted. He took another breath, looked at ceiling for few seconds and allowed him to continue reading.  “ _Your letter has filled our hearts with joy and pace.  We rejoiced on your well being._ _Our musicians were able to pick your song and I’m happy to hear it every morning. It’s beautiful_. _Our little friends enjoyed so much.”_ Sherlock stop reading, John saw his lips moving and his eyes stopping.

“Sherlock?” Gandalf asked first.

Sherlock raised his head slowly, he fixed his eye on Gandalf, he tried to said something, but his lips only moved, opened and closed. He moved his heads to see at the kitchen o suddenly that John jumped.

“Mrs Hudson baked cupcakes” he said, his voice breaking, the letter in hand shivering. “John loves tea” he whispered.

The letter fell.

Tears filled Sherlock’s eyes, John looked at Gandalf, he was equally confused and he saw the worry replace his earlier happiness. John hears filled slowly with something unnamed and cold.

Sherlock sucked breath once and didn’t let it go, Gandalf was at his side the next moment. “Everything is okay my friend, everything…. Just breath Sherlock, breath” Gandalf grabbed Sherlock’s arm and held him tight. “Breath, come on breath!” John tried to help but Gandalf glared at him, his eyes pleading for stay away.

The detective left himself fell on his knees, his hands shaking, all of him shaking. Gandalf took his face and ordered him “Breath!”

But Sherlock released a raw scream, his tears then flowed freely and he freed himself from Sherlock and curled over his knees. Gandalf crawled backwards.

“No, no no, this isn’t all right. No….” He went for the letter and picked up. He read it. “Dear Varda” He exclaimed sorrowful. “no….”  he crawled back at Sherlock and put his face on his shoulder and his arms like a hug.

John wanted to help, wanted to hug Sherlock, to do something to rip them from that freefall of paint. But he wanted to know what had happened, what the rest of the letter said. What made them cry their lives out.

John took careful the letter from Gandalf fingers and saw the characters.

They were beautiful, well traced with brownish gold ink, it had a red circular seal in the end, but as incredible it looked, John can’t read a single character on it. There were dots in characters that looked like m’s, tildes on s’s, and the like.

He looked at the gull, she had her head slow, like she had knew forehand the words of the letter. John felt so useless.

He decided that he will join them and try to comfort them. The door opened and Mycroft made a pompous entrance, he looked first at the sofa then at John, his eyes landed last on the crying form of his younger brother.

“Sherlock why the gull?” He asked nonplused about the crying.

“Mycroft please” John walked at him, trying his best to pull him out.

“What does that man with my brother?” He asked, worrying flaying in his voice.

“Please not now” Sherlock sobbed, Gandalf raised his head, he had his eyes read and his cheeks traced with tears.

“please” he begged instead.

“You’ll leave now” Mycroft threatened, Gandalf was pushed apart slowly, he tried to keep his hands on Sherlock’s back, but he manage to escape the old man and stand up, his face showed anger, his breath was short and hiccupping, holding back sobs, his eyes were red also but they weren’t blue or greenish, they glowed gold and tears keep flowing.

“you..” he sobbed. “are the only one that can come in this moment and see nothing” He stood up slowly, Gandalf didn’t tried to stop him. “only you can’t dismiss the truth”

John walked back and tried to grab Mycroft arm, he felt in his heart a sudden rush of fear and dread. Mycroft wasn’t that easy to grab, he stomped the floor with his umbrella.

“You’re being so dramatic again dear brother” Mycroft said.

John saw Sherlock get mad with words but remained still somehow, Gandalf murmured at him something, so soft, so beautiful but that seemed to have a effect of him.

“Do I have to show you?! Do I have to burn this city to understand?!” And Sherlock screamed, John covered his eyes and fell on his backs, he had saw something terrible, very furious and very painful on the thin frame of his frame.

It lasted a heartbeat, Gandalf hugged Sherlock from his back and that seemed to break him finally. Sherlock fell on his knees again, dragging Gandalf with him. Sherlock yelled sorrowful, Gandalf seemed to anchor him.

“Please leave him, please.” Sherlock’s hands grabbed Gandalf shirt, his finger grasped tight. John saw red stain appear. “If you ever cared about him, please leave him now” Gandalf seemed not to care the new wounds.

John nodded, he grasped Mycroft finally and manhandled out of the flat. Sherlock’s cries were audible from the street.

“Dear what happened?” Mrs Hudson asked from the door.

“Something very wrong” John said to her.  “Please, don’t enter the flat. Please”

“Bur dear, Sherlocks sounds…”

“I know Mrs. Hudson, just don’t” Mrs. Hudson accept the request and leave them alone. Mycroft was still at his side, stunned or scared or shocked.

“They will be all right” John said hopeful. Mycroft retuned to the present.

“It was, it felt like that day, but worse” Mycroft said he looked at his umbrella, then he glanced at John.

“I imagine that you will need a place to spend the next days” John considered the offer. He remembered that his jacket, mobile, and wallet was left in the flat and he felt very rude to return for those items.

“It’s seems so.” John accepted the invitation. Mycroft opened the door of the black sedan, and they entered it.

 


End file.
